


Starman

by lespadfoot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gay Sirius Black, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), POV Sirius Black, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 01:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lespadfoot/pseuds/lespadfoot
Summary: Sirius' life from eleven years old, up until his death. This one will take a while...
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Starman

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to Cricket and Nic for helping me out with this chapter!

He stood proudly facing the tall, elegant mirror in his room. Its mahogany frame was sculpted into intricate shapes, matching the rest of his furniture perfectly. He looked up at the reflection of the towering woman whose hand gripped his shoulder harshly. Her head was cut off by the top of the mirror; he stared at her lace collar, afraid of turning to look at her face.

Her skeletal fingers brushed past Sirius’ neck and fastened the last button of his robes. He caught his breath, wishing to be rid of the pressure on his neck but not daring. She had him dressed in emerald green robes, which matched her own velvet ones perfectly.

“That should be adequate,” she muttered to herself, observing Sirius’ attire. She crouched over him and her breath was hot on the skin below his hairline. “Look at me.”

Sirius turned around, serious and tense. His mother’s face so very close to his; her gaze dark, as though she was trying to decipher something behind his eyes. Sirius felt the urgent need to squirm away but her nails were digging into the skin of his arms, firmly holding him in place.

“Slytherin will take good care of you,” she told him. Although he was only eleven years old, Sirius knew exactly what she meant. These were not the words of a mother wishing her son to be cherished. Her voice felt as cold as her palms, freezing the fabric of Sirius’ sleeves. _They’ll teach you how to be pure_ , it said, _they’ll make you worthy_.

Her lips were pinched as tightly as the neat, black bun that sat on the crown of her head. Sirius and Walburga shared the same eyes, but not the same gaze. They had the same hair, except hers did not have the liveliness of his. It looked like hay, dead and dry on her head; dark as her eyes. Walburga and Sirius looked similar on the outside and Sirius hoped this was where the resemblance ended.

“Are you listening? Sirius?” He didn’t realize he was zoning out; he looked up at her again. He did not find the concerned look he was hoping for and instead found annoyance in her austere features. She did not appreciate being ignored.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she sighed and stood up, straightening the folds of her robes. “Let's go now. It's only a short walk from here.”

They walked out of Sirius’ bedroom into the corridor. The boy stole a longing glance at Regulus’ closed door, wishing his younger brother had been allowed to see him off to the station. Their mother had thought it best to keep him home with his father. Sirius thought she was probably worried it would take too long for Regulus and Sirius to say goodbye to one another and she was not a patient woman.

Kreacher was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs with the boy’s suitcase and new owl. He bowed excitedly at Walburga’s feet, his nose brushing the hem of her robes. The woman briefly thanked him before ordering him away. She made Sirius carry his things and they walked out of Grimmauld Place quietly; the boy’s heart hammering in his chest.

Sirius had not walked out the door into muggle London very often. The Black children spent most of their time locked inside and occasionally travelled to other pureblood estates using the floo network.

The muggle children ran up the street after one another, screaming playfully. They ran carelessly through a puddle of water next to Sirius’ feet, splashing it all over his robes. His mother stared at the children with disgust as she wandlessly dried Sirius’s clothes.

“Don’t look at them, Sirius,” she added when she saw the way he stared at their distant silhouettes. “You'll have plenty of normal friends to play with at Hogwarts.” His mother did not raise her voice, yet it felt as though she had.

Some passersby stared at them, heads turning to take a peek. It took a minute for Sirius to notice just how much they stood out among muggles. He was suddenly surprised the children hadn't spared him a second glance. Luckily, he didn't have to endure this for very long; King's Cross was only a street away.

As they approached the pillar that served as an entryway to platform nine and three-quarters, the muggles magically looked away. Sirius stepped in before his mother and immediately found himself in awe of the view that presented itself before him.

There were a lot of people—though not as many as in muggle London. His skin was almost buzzing; if he hadn't known better, he would have mistaken it for excitement, but he knew that wasn't it. It was coming from the magic.

Unlike the magic he’d felt before in his family’s homes, this one felt pleasant. The constant humming he’d grown used to having around him was heavy in comparison; black clouds often floating near the ceiling; deep voices whispering from locked-up rooms full of dark artifacts. He had never felt anything like the pure joy which had softly washed over him the second he had arrived. With each step Sirius took on the platform, he felt lighter than he ever had.

Magical families were running around in a hurry. There were people crying but they didn't seem to be sad, and Sirius felt tense at the idea of someone being so happy they cried. Suddenly, a flicker of purple to his left— a witch had just conjured a hat to give to her daughter. And then to his right, there were white sparks flying out of a wand where a father was cleaning his child’s robes. A cat ran past Sirius and his owl hooted. Sirius didn't know where to look; every second his gaze was pulled away to look at something newer and more interesting than the last.

“I expect an owl every month.” Sirius jumped at his mother’s voice—slightly muffled over the chatter of the crowd, yet clearer than he'd expected. She had crouched next to him; her mouth near his ear. “Inform me of your grades.”

“I will.” She took a step back. Sirius tried to restrain himself; nevertheless broke into a smile.

“You are to come back on Christmas.” He nodded enthusiastically and his mother sighed. “You’re dismissed.”

His smile widened as he walked away confidently, popping open the top button of his robes behind her back. A part of him thought he ought to turn back and glance at her one last time before the school year started and put aside his stubbornness. However, a few seconds passed before he stopped—heart beating loudly under his too-tight vest—and when he turned, she seemed to have already apparated away.

Professor McGonagall’s voice echoed in the Great Hall. Sirius was standing amongst the other first years, his new friend James right next to him.

They had met on the train and had not left each other’s side ever since. Sirius was extremely pleased with how easily they could speak to one another, from the quidditch talk to the teasing and jokes… But James hated Slytherins and Sirius was now terribly afraid of every possible outcome of his sorting. If he was declared a Slytherin, James would hate him, and if he was declared as anything else, his family would hate him.

James tapped him on the shoulder, jumping on his feet and grinning widely. Sirius eased at that—smiling back—thinking that he would only see his parents for a little under three months a year, so why did it matter if they hated that he wasn't Slytherin? Besides, if he was Slytherin, maybe James would consider being his friend regardless.

“Arsenault, Aurore!” McGonagall called.

A little blonde girl from the back of the group was urged forward. Looking up from under her bangs, she flushed; hundreds of students were staring at her. Professor McGonagall helped her onto the tall stool and placed the talking hat on top of her head. There was a tension-filled minute where everyone stayed quiet, waiting for the first sorting of the year. A minute had never felt so long as Sirius’ thoughts still revolved around his family. Merlin, what would they think? Surely the hat would declare him Slytherin, for Sirius’ own good.

Finally, the hat yelled: “Hufflepuff!” and the yellow table cheered, welcoming their new member with warm smiles and joyful hugs.

“Beams, Tully!” Professor McGonagall called.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat said once more and then (much too soon) it was Sirius’ turn. He approached the stool slowly, imagining how much this simple decision could change his life…

The hat was heavy and its humming felt weird on his head. “ _Uhm… I see… So courageous… I shall not hesitate. I don't doubt for one second that you'd do great in..._ ” the hat whispered so only Sirius could hear. Then it roared so loudly it rang in his ears: “Gryffindor!”

Sirius beamed so hard that his cheeks felt numb. He hurried towards the Gryffindor table, immediately being showered in welcomes and congratulations. He sat down at the end of the table, waiting for the other first-year Gryffindors who would inevitably join him.

His eyes locked with someone else’s from the green table next to theirs; her gaze dark and canny. Narcissa, Sirius’ cousin, stared at him with some sort of complex emotion he wasn't sure he fully understood. It didn't look like she was happy, though, so he looked away abruptly, feeling his face heat up.

“Bloch, Maureen!” was sorted into Slytherin and Professor McGonagall kept calling up names sporadically. Sometimes it only took a second before the hat announced its decision, but other times it took as long as a few minutes.

“Evans, Lily!” was the second Gryffindor to get sorted. She sat as far away as she could from Sirius, surely remembering him from the train.

He had been sitting alone and had jumped at the sound of the glass door slamming shut. A young girl stormed in and sat right in front of him, tears streaming down her face. One glance at Sirius, who swore her eyes widened a little in surprise, and she wiped them dry and looked sternly out onto the platform. She had long auburn hair which acted as curtains to hide her face from Sirius, who was subtly trying to catch a glance. He sat uncomfortably still, back straight and head held high, unsure as to how he should react.

“Hello,” he attempted, gently. “Are you alright?”

She took a furtive glance at him and scoffed. Sirius was about to retort when more people walked in and the girl simply pressed her face further against the windowpane, looking away from him. One of the boys threw himself onto the seat opposite Sirius, next to the girl. It had been James.

“Hilburn, Ares!”

“Slytherin!”

“Knight, Michele!”

“Hufflepuff!”

Not very long after, a boy named Remus Lupin was called up and sorted into Gryffindor. He walked up to the table and sat near Sirius but not next to him, careful to keep his distance. He was smiling shyly, his head kept down so his short, tawny hair fell over his eyes. His robes were decidedly secondhand; patched up and discoloured.

“Hi Remus,” Sirius said, testing the unfamiliar name. It sounded a bit strange.

“Hi,” he looked up at Sirius, eyes glinting, and hesitated: “Sirius, right?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, attention shifting to the girl who’d been sorted into Gryffindor right after Remus. She had kinky black hair and held herself with poise; hands on her waist and chin held high.

“As if I could forget,” said Mary Macdonald. “My mum’s told me all about you pureblood families. You must be the first Black to not be a Slytherin in decades!”

“I guess so…”

Mary didn't seem to notice the way Sirius’ face fell. As more girls joined the table, she slid down the bench to join them, leaving Remus and Sirius awkwardly peeking at one another for many minutes.

“Sirius!” James threw himself onto the seat next to Sirius, enveloping him in a sudden hug. “We’re both Gryffindors!”

Maybe this wasn't so bad, Sirius thought, hugging James back heartily. Surely his parents would get used to the idea of him being a Gryffindor.

That night, Sirius descended into the mellowest sleep he'd ever had. Surrounded by a strong sense of security, he swiftly unwound. Thoughts of his parents—his mom—dissipated until all he could think of were the faces of his new Gryffindor friends, already familiar enough that he experienced no trouble at all in recalling them. James’ expressive eyebrows; the prominent arch of Remus’ roman nose—they both seemed to float around his head as his body relaxed and he forgot about the boy he'd left at home.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you notice any typos or anything of the sort! I would love to know what you think about it so far. :)


End file.
